Writing the story of our parents

I'm turning my thoughts to a new project (now that I'm done with fundraising fairs.)  Our parents' lives will be forgotten if we don't write them down.  Of course, we don't think of it until they're gone.  My mother's been gone for 9 years now, my father for 12.  But how could we write it when they are there to witness it?  They wouldn't like it; they would tell me I was wrong.  But they could have at least verified it or even maybe told me was important to them.

I've been pondering, should it be the story of my mother ... or the story about Claire Baumann Ginsburgh.  I don't want it to be about me but, of course, it has to be about me.

Here she is, around 1940, in a fancy coat.  She let me know that her social life when she was a teen was much superior to mine.  She did seem to have more fun.  Several reasons come to my mind about why that might be so but I don't want to discuss that here.

If we don't write it, nobody will.  And imagine if somebody were to want my story.  None of my kids seem interested; maybe I will have to write it myself.